


Envisions and ties

by AllisonNoir



Series: Envision and ties [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonNoir/pseuds/AllisonNoir
Summary: "When the memories couldn't be recalled,when the taken efforts couldn't be paid off,and even the survival is questinable,hanging on the smallest piece of pastmight mean the only possible wayto remember..."





	1. This is where I fall...

**Author's Note:**

> I played with the idea why Missy can't remember to things and then with the possibility to save her somehow. But I then realised her fate was written - wasn't it? And then there was the fact that he changed - so as The Doctor. And well, there was that scene what should have been extended... and things what should have been explained...so much questionable things... and then, I collected all of those issues and answered them, all of them. And here we are now. Welcome to the menu.

This is where I fall…

  
The place was dusty, grey and burned. The air was full of metal scent, with amber scintillating sparkles - like millions and billions of tiny fire-flies would have danced around the man. But it wasn’t that poetical or romantic. No, it was far, far away from it. What seemed as stars, flying tiny glow-worms, were in real the ions and the atoms of the exploded species - or at least the rest of them. At the moment, everything of them was mingling in the air, combined with the smoke of the fire. It was their fall. It was the place where they all were fallen.

He stepped carefully, loafing within the fallen ones, not caring with the numbers of them or how they looked like or what kind of beings they had belonged to – either aforetime or currently, according to what kind of designation they have run under their final form. He was just aiming the place where he had to go and didn’t care with anything else. He had to find his target’s location - at all hazards. The others, the surrounding haven’t been important, never, at all. Not even letting himself to think about what one of the species had been before the whole utopistic procedure.

Otherwise it has been just the future - or the past - depending on how he has examined. And as every time when the past has met with the future, the war has been appeared. Just as no one could survive a battle within two completely differing centuries or millenia. Hereby no one could have lived it out, mainly not a confrontation with an upgraded form of the one’s own species.

Unfortunately there has been ways to escape, to delay the faith but the death and the shadow of the war even that time has been there, likewise at every single moment of the history. He has never really understood why they couldn’t have seen its impossibility – to believe constantly in the sweet, beloved hope. Like it would have been a kind goodness, who has had power over the actions. Seriously? Ridiculous.

It has been invariably the evolution. The answer for the question. Some people would never get it. But that wasn’t the issue, it didn’t matter. Not a bit. However he had to note that the attachments for the fairy tales, has been miserable and tedious. Waiting for the miracle, fondly believing in a phantom…

The ones who have seen the wars, the losses, the thoughts, the ideas, that ones could see the mechanism, the system of it, the necessity of the natural process - and they have understood it. The beauty of the bloodshed, the sacrifice - like the strokes on a painting. With vigorous amalgamation of the shading colours. Phenomenal. Even a hand master couldn’t imagine such a magnificent synch what these kinds of masterpieces could maintain.

The finesse of the wars. The warm of the fire. Someone could feel it, someone could grow up to it. And there has been always and always the ones who have tried to resist to it. The doctors of the diseases. The supporters of the descending ones. Pathetic. But luckily since there have been thoughts, outstanding ideas from the others, there would be evermore viruses to spread. Viruses what would cause wars and lead everything to the unavoidable faith, the path to the future, to the change. To the better version of the universe.

And this place, this place hasn’t been just a trap, a place where his lineage had been stucked. No, it has been a perfect replicate of the time itself, where the past, the present and the future have been combined floor by floor. It should have been examined. A perfect place to view the people, their behaviour, decades by decades. But someone had already done that. And it has been already the past for him. Even if the temptation was so strong to change on this fact. But on the other hand he couldn’t let to himself to mess with his own history and timeline. And otherwise the influence of the paradoxes have already reached him. Two versions of him have been on the same place at the same time. It weakened him. Thus he had no other choice than to find her as soon as possible.

Or else he would die, twice in the same place - not even counting with the fact, he has been already dying.

 


	2. By the hand of the enemy

By the hand of the enemy

 

She was bored. Watching after someone who couldn’t even move, who couldn’t even talk or whom against she couldn’t even do anything – harmful – even a little bit. It reminded her to the not so far past, to her vault – what might have been called as her fault as well. Her inner fault what had manifested in a physical form. Vault, fault… how impressive! She loved the nearly destined rhymes of them.

But even the funny language couldn’t distract her ideally to be interested in something. She was bored. Maybe, he – her previous prisoner – had felt the same then, as she could feel herself right now. But it wasn’t important. That had happened like ancient times earlier.

But now… She has already gave up to count the days, maybe it has been two weeks since she has taken care of the other, she couldn’t tell it in real. She has been still a little bit hazy with the time. She hasn’t been able to recall even the time since when the other has been unconscious. Hours? Days? Weeks? _Years?_

Maybe in real she rather should have let her die. She should have let her rot there, let her to the will of the universe and the nature – happens what has to happen with her. But, seriously, why the hell should she have done that? The thought of it was funny in head, but then she couldn’t have laughed on it, either a little, either for a moment’s thought. It would have been called then just a simple murdering and she has after all always and always had the reasons to do it, in every miserable place and moment. Everywhere. Every time. But not that time.

And on the other hand she couldn’t have let her die. She has been her friend. The only friend in her so long life. And she has hoped – so much – in the other’s mind she has been a friend too, or at least she could get back that friendship somehow, sometime, the other’s friendship and trust. However, unlikely, she has deeply known it couldn’t be possible. Not with her. Not with her real unpredictable self. She has saved her anyway.

And even if it was hard to admit, she has owed to her with her life – even if the idea and even the thought of it caused an awful headache and a sickening bitter taste in her mouth. It has been disgusting. Maybe the source behind the feeling of sickness was just a little reminder and in fact it has come from her younger self. The sense of the betrayal. She had betrayed the other, her younger self and her real self at the same time.

She looked to the resting one for a slight mo’ then – sith she hasn’t moved – turned a page. The book in her hand wasn’t interesting. It didn’t grab her attention. She was just reading it, with no particular reason. Maybe in deep she was a little curious, but not much in truth. But even a slight amount of curiosity must have been faded until she found an other distracting way against the constant fatal boredom.

The circa two hundred page tome could have been called as the bibliography of the other – a so-called memoir about one of hers previous versions. It could have been equalled with reading her diary or an adult book – or a pulp fiction.

Granny should have closed every single existing copy of them if he would have liked to keep in secret, didn’t he? – she had thought when she had found the book in a shop and realised what it was about – most of all about _whom_ it was written.

The story was annoyingly dull, but on the same time, it was about the other’s sweet hidden secrets. And, first of all, she hadn’t ever mentioned that big blonde curly haired woman and her so much – almost flagrantly – young companions. Not even thinking about the lines within them what could have been competing with the plot of a pokey soap opera. Naughty, naughty.

But the creatures… Well, those creatures have amazed her so much. Those cruel monsters… Weeping angels. What a fascinating name! And what murders they have been! They made her to think about the possibilities with them. They must have been led by someone. What a power! It was really hard to resist to it. The feeling of the power was so poisonous. Even knowing they have used time energy. It should have leveraged for something beautiful… But not now. Not currently.

She didn’t read the end. She has already known it. It was sentimental and peaceful. Maybe a little bit sad, but in real, there was happiness. As always. The other and her companions have always and always got their happy endings. She has abhorred it. She has hated her so much. She has hated _him_ so much.

But… She couldn’t ever really hate the other. Never. Like she would be never ever capable to stand with her. Even if it has meant her fall, and even if, not standing with her has meant her fall too, every single time. The ways… there has been all the time other ways than that way. It was - currently – just a momentary docking then, an offset.

She thought for a moment, like she has used to do it since the spent times in her personal vault and imagined the ages when he had been here and not _she_. Those sweet days… those damn, sweet, controversial days… and then _himself_. It had been so complex and… complicated. So much complicated. Especially now.

After seventy years she could still cause surprises and crossed to the other. She couldn’t tell what it has been this time – a triumph or a petit human fiasco. But she has been here, with an unsolvable and unavoidable situation within an aggravatingly boring scene with no escape. Stucked with the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the next ones will be longer – and 'll contain finally some discussion


	3. Breach of promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely I should tell by now, there will be time skips. So technically, the previous one was in the present, the first in the near past and the coming few ones - just like this one - are playing in the farer past. (But it will be easy to figure out ;) - I guess...)

Breach of promises

 

This is not what we agreed to” he had said and well, his words have still echoed in her head. He has been right, she had to admit it. She shouldn’t have left the Vault, her personal vault, but she couldn’t have been motionless. She had wanted to do something – mainly to show him that he can trust her. Now, currently, in her current form, he could trust. But he has been right, as always. She shouldn’t have done that.

She waited as the others, the pretty, useless ones left the ship and a little more till the man assured that mechanical creature that he could be her on the watch. It was a hard – god-know-how-long – well-thought minute spending in silence, a killing and sceptical gaze within the two but then the decision was born. And she stayed alone within the machine with her guard.

The man was in silence, in a deadly, torturing silence. He stepped to the operator panel, keeping her out of his way and fixed the coordinates, checked the necessary things, then – knowing the whole play was unnecessary – gazed to the space.

She has exactly known he was angry, furiously. And she has been also aware of she had currently no other choice than wait. Wait until he would explode. Wait until his anger and disappointment would flare – whether in words or in actions.

She carefully came closer to the man, but the vehicle almost immediately warned her with some slight whistles from the engines. It has a soul then in deed – she realised – and like her owner, she was angry to her too. She rather stepped back, to keep an appropriate distance from both of them and swallowed her pique. She had just wanted to help, for god’s sake.

“I’m sorry” she said then, voicing the sounds under her breath. “I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

The man said nothing. He didn’t even react to it in any way – even with a betraying mimicry, or with a single deep sigh. And it was more frustrating and tormenting than go through a blaze of anger. His famous fatal silence – it was high time to be experienced by her too.

“You should have stayed” he noted then, coldly, on his common tone. “Nardole could have solved it.”

“Don't be absurd, he couldn’t” she corrected him, like he wouldn’t have known its palpability.

“No.” he whispered, than enlightened the difference. “He _should_ have solved it. _Alone_. Somehow.” he said and turned back to the panel, visibly distracting his mind with the unneeded clicking and adjusting. She followed constantly his tramping with her eyes. At least his steps betrayed his current mood. He was boiling under his skin – only one wrong question away to make some abhorring destruction.

“Is it _that_ wrong I am here?” she took the question carefully, realising his words and the tone how he voiced them.

“Yes!” he pointed immediately and pulled a handle what made a momentary shrilling sound.

She didn’t have to respond. It was the truth, definitely. The ugly truth. It hasn’t counted how much she tried to change, it hasn’t counted how far she went, and it hasn’t counted how much she has tried to _try_ … it was – against the whole – meaningless, as it would be also ninehundred-twenty-something years later. He hasn’t wished her outside. And it wasn’t just about his liability and her verdict. He hasn’t wanted her: her tries, apologies, penance and attendance. Neither her help.

And after all, he was right. She should have deserved death – even if she had exactly counted as he would save her. And then, she had betrayed him. She irrevocably managed to lose his trust this time. More than seventy years and then… everything, her every single suffer, theatrical play to his emotions, tries and patient and hope, have been for nothing. It collapsed. But… she had to know one thing, only one, even if she knew: she has already lost him…

She worked her way through the space within them, not caring with the damn vehicle’s whistle and grabbed the other’s wrist, before he could notice it.

“But…” she started, but the man straighaway made his hand free from her squeeze.

“What are you doing?” he put her in place off the cuff.

“You are trembling…” she said stunnedly, as she realised the fact from the instantaneous sense. And in deed, she _felt_ it; clearly, even it had been just a slight moment. The shaking molecules and atoms of the other beneath his skin. The blood, the senses… all have been on to change.

“You are…” she started and then understood what he had said not so much earlier. “Your eyes… it has started that time. You are…”

“ _Missy!_ ” he tried to catch her up in her thoughts. But she grabbed again his hand and this time didn’t let him free such easily.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she looked to his eyes, searching for the answer in them.

“It’s not important” he said calmly and shook her off him, turning back to the panel. She, this time, let him. But she has known the truth.

He was trembling, because he was afraid. Technically he shouldn’t have been afraid or terrified at all. Maybe near to the final end, but no, either that time. They haven’t been ever terrified – they have been always aware of the coming ends and what those have meant – a new beginning. They have been thought to know it, to prepare for it mentally…

Maybe some of them had been sentimental at the ends – and she could imagine he has been one of them – but they had been never ever _that_ afraid. It could mean only one thing: the real end, if it was near.

“Soon, isn’t it?” she took the question. The man stopped his motions.

“Too soon.” he admitted in a low voice.

_How much more?_ – she would have liked to ask, but rather didn’t say it in loud. She didn’t want to know it. She didn’t want to aware of the other’s loss and decadence. Not now. It was hard to admit, but she has needed him. Not just because of theirs current situation, or his guarding over her. She has needed him, because he has been her friend – or as she has hoped she could call him as her friend.

She stepped closer to him, only a few inches away from the man. She slowly touches his hand. He let her to feel the rush of the cells, their vivid dance, the impatient moving of them, waiting for their time – what would mean simultaneously their end and rebirth.

“Touch me.” she whispered under her breath, the man confoundedly looked to her. “Like at 3W. Did you remember to it?”

He nodded. “Yes.” but he didn’t move.

“Shy.” she noted and squeezed his hand a little bit and forced his palm to her breast. “Here.” recalled she the memory and then waited until the other didn’t want to release her. “And do you feel it? Can you feel them, the _drums_?” the man gazed to her sceptically. She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be prude. I know you feel them, you felt them. Do you remember what I said then?”

“ _Yes?_ ” he confessed still disconcertedly with her motivation. “What do you want, Missy?” he voiced then his curiosity, pointing to the awkwardness of the current situation. She blinked wearily.

“Just listen them, Doctor. Close your eyes and listen them.” she replied. “Close everything out until you hear only the beats of them.” the man was on to release her, but she added. “Just once, trust me, _please_. I won’t bite, promise.” she smirked.

He was firstly unwilling to take the order – request – but after a second, he came across and closed his eyes.

She waited a little, a whole minute or slightly a tiny bit more, and then relaxed her hold to the other’s fingers and let his hand to rest on her. She has known he was in deep, deep in the beats. They were hypnotic and tend to lead everybody to madness. She has known them well. They have led her in her whole life. The four knock, the double beat, the duet of the two hearts, the end of the other, the fate of _her_ …

As an other whole minute elapsed, she took down his hand and stepped closer to him. She carefully touched the other’s momentary grey hair and gently breathed a slight kiss on his lips. He slowly opened his eyes. Those clear blue eyes were murderous – mostly the bafflement in them. She took a step back.

“See? You are not trembling now.” she smiled with a wide grin. “You only needed some distraction.”

The man was still confused, absolutely on a visible way. She saw he was on currently in his mind to explain the previous action with a rational reason, but he had to admit, he couldn’t, if it has been about her. He couldn’t ever explain anything at all, if it has been about her or her actions.

“Do me a favour and avoid the battlefields for a little time, darling. Then everything will be fine. What you need is a little rest only.” she explained and fixed the man’s coat a bit. “Done. Now, you can bring me back to the Vault, as you wished.” she said and took some step back, aiming the entrance of the machine, but something stopped her. “ _What?_ ”

“Stop!” said the man, holding her hand in his.

“Yeah, I got it.” she snorted. Both of them knew what she was curious about was the reason.

“This wasn’t just about the distraction, was it, Missy?” he viewed her with his turquoise eyes. And she has exactly known she couldn’t lie to those eyes. _Never_.

“What do you think?” she wondered wiggling with her eyes nonchalantly.

“I think, you’ve started to create a sort of attachment during your-“

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” she chuckled and tried to escape from the man’s squeeze. “I would really appreciate if you could let me. I’m not one of your mortal toddlers to hold me.” she inquired, but he rather pulled her back.

“Missy! Explain!” he told to her on the voice what he has used to use on his enemies.

She wiggled her eyes. “Orders. Always the orders, Doctor! It’s boring after a while…” she moaned, but had to realise he undoubtedly wouldn’t let her go without the truth. “Right. I just played with you. I was bored. Are you satisfied now?” she looked to him. “Fine, then we can go.” she tried to move.

“You are lying.” the man said. “I always know when you are lying.” Of course, he has known – she thought.

“What do you want to hear, Doctor?” she sighed fretfully. "And do not try to be a psythiatrist, it wouldn't fit you."

“The truth.” he started “I was away for six months, it’s a human thing to-“

“Don’t!” she broke in on him at once. “Don’t you dare to compare me to _them_! Both of us know I am not one of your so much beloved human beings! So don’t assume I picked up some of their hilarious habits during the years, ‘cause I _didn’t_!” she extended her inner anger.

It was far too much that someone supposed such a ridiculous idea like a built-up emotional connection – especially counting that he did it.

“The only ‘ _relation_ ’ what you can dare to drag up within us and with what _I_ care” she continued “is our painfully necessary engagement, forasmuch someone couldn’t kill me properly. It’s not my fault you were incapable to do your job. So don’t think some months took impact on me. From us you are the sentimental one, always you were…”

“You are wrong.” he stopped her calmly. “You made a mistake, Missy.”

She regarded him. She couldn’t find the problem. There was nothing else what could say the opposite of her words and what could debate with her, except… she spotted her hand: he has still held her wrist. He hadn’t said anything, he hadn’t had to, he has known it, during the whole time.

She wanted to scream, cry, shout, murder him, break his hand, break those gently holding fingers, but the only real thing what she was capable to do to gaze to their hands blankly. There was no time for desperateness, no time for exceptions, for plays, or for words. Everything might have been just useless only, the delay of the inevitable fact.

“Now.” he voiced endearingly. “Come here.”

She slowly lifted up her eyes. Even if it was hard to admit, even if it had been mainly just about to play, to get him and even if her mind has constantly fought against it, he, after all, was right. Maybe it wasn’t the first time when he has seen her tears, but the first time when those were hers and she didn’t let them with reaching a purpose or making an impact.

She felt herself like she had been _him_ ancient times earlier on Gallifrey. Like she would have been that blonde girl at the Academy, hiding from her friend just because she had been afraid to disappoint the other after her first regeneration and the condemnation what the change could cause. He then had rather disappeared and even the Time War had crossed theirs fate, but against him, she currently couldn’t run away. And on the other hand since then like two thousand years has elapsed – or at least counting with their age – so then, the circumstances took a slight one hundred and eighty degree turn and everything has changed. Even them.

“In spite of Bill’s deal I am still blind, aren’t I?” he asked then. She didn’t have to answer, everything might have been just superfluous then. After all, he has always known the truth and the right thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: the next ones will be affixes for this main line, but also could be read separatedly. Thus, that chapters won't be uploaded to this line, however those at the same time will follow the current continuity. So in short, if you'd like to read those too, the titles as you could find them soon after: "Weight of past"; "Just a tiny bit kindliness dear - really not a big deal-y". After that the main line's upload will continue (in all, four weeks later). Thanks for your patience - or interest. - All


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